


Riding it out

by orphan_account



Category: Veep
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonah wasn’t taking his calls. Jonah. That had to be a new low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding it out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malana/gifts).



> Warning: this fic contains adult language, unprofessional behaviour and spoilers for [CLOP](http://www.foddy.net/CLOP.html).

Dan was getting used to the sound of his calls being redirected to voicemail. He wasn’t taking it personally. He’d seen it happen a dozen times: some poor bastard fucks up, he gets cut out of the loop for a while. He gets sent back to his old desk. People gossip about him at networking events. It was all part of the game – Dan knew that as well as anyone because he’d hopped into three of his last five jobs after career-flattening scandals had opened them up. It was standard fallout. The best thing to do was to kick back, enjoy the view from the corner desk, and wait until he was needed again. Which, with Mike back in charge, probably wouldn’t be long.

Still, in the meantime, he was spending a lot of his time memorising people’s voicemail messages. It had been novel at first – Amy had a lilt to her voice that he’d somehow managed to miss whenever they spoke in person; Senator Hallowes was tart, outright warning callers not to waste her time; Danny Chung’s message was _just_ missing the mark and Dan could tell him exactly how to fix it if he’d just pick up his fucking phone. 

Dan didn’t actually mind playing voicemail bingo. It took up precious minutes of his otherwise unoccupied day and gave him time to perfect his hey-I-just-called-to-check-in message. By now, he had it down to a tight nine seconds. It was all fine until someone actually has the nerve to hang up on him. Halfway through his intake of breath, he heard an unfamiliar beep and glanced at his cell phone. An ugly red CALL DECLINED notice sat at the top of his outgoing calls list like a gaping wound. Jonah wasn’t taking his calls. Jonah. That had to be a new low.

Mechanically, he deleted the record of the call from his phone. Then he turned it off and closed it away in his desk drawer. 

*

No one builds a career in politics without lying, and no one could lie like Dan. It was a point of pride. It wasn’t just about knowing when to lie or who needed lying to, it was about knowing what sort of lie was best for any given situation. With a potential employer, for example, he preferred to stick to flattery. No outright falsehoods, just a sheen of _extra-upbeat_ in his conversation. Maybe the odd omission. Definitely nothing that a casual Googling could disprove. 

Once he was hired, though, all bets were off. Politicians expect results, and sometimes results just aren’t there to be had. That’s when the real work starts: a couple of optimistic predictions, a few confirmed yesses when you’re still waiting for a maybe, the odd outright denial when someone gets caught doing something they shouldn’t have done – and those are just the lies you tell your boss. Meanwhile you’re juggling the lies you told the press, the lies you’re telling the lobbyists, the lies you told your last girlfriend and the lies you’re lining up for your next boss. In other words, if lying isn’t second nature before you’ve finished your first day on the payroll, you might as well kiss your career goodbye. Securing a job is one thing; clinging to it for dear life is another matter altogether. And the first rule of clinging for dear life is this: never let anyone see how white your knuckles are.

It wasn’t exactly unusual, especially not in D.C. The only difference was that most people didn’t call it lying. Amy called it ‘stalling’. Sue called it ‘strategic administration’. Mike called it ‘doing my job, asshole’ (although he’d also been known to cut pictures out of magazines and call it ‘Simon the black Labrador’). Gary probably thought of it as taking care of Selina, assuming Gary had the self-awareness to think anything at all. 

Not Dan, though. Dan was the best at what he did, and he knew that brutal self-awareness gave him the edge. So it was with complete honesty that he told himself that his current situation was severely fucked. No one emailed him anymore. He didn’t even get spam or cafeteria announcements. He would have assumed that he'd been disconnected entirely if it weren’t for the daily mass emails from Gary that still littered his inbox. He was pretty sure that being accidentally left on a mailing list should have been strategically useful. But unfortunately, Gary didn’t have any information worth knowing and mostly used the daily memos as an opportunity to vent his minor grievances.

 

To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: WalshGar  
Subject: For the LAST TIME

Hey guys,

Just a friendly reminder that the milk doesn’t put itself back in the refrigerator. I had to put lukewarm milk in the Veep’s cereal this morning and I’m pretty sure she noticed the difference in temperature.

Gary

  


Dan skimmed the email, rolled his eyes and tapped out a response.

  


To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: EganDan  
Subject: Re: For the LAST TIME

Gary,

You do realise that milk can spoil if you leave it at room temperature. Pretty sure that giving spoiled milk to the Veep is a form of treason.

You're welcome,  
DE

 

It probably wasn't worth sending it. Not when he could stay on the list and still have access to any valuable information that Gary may accidentally reveal. He saved the reply to his Drafts folder and celebrated his restraint by pouring himself an ice cold glass of milk in the break room.

*

The corner was just the way Dan had left it. Except now it seemed so far away from the action that he might as well have been in another office. And, in his absence, the nearest desk had been filled by a greasy-haired kid who drafted shitty press releases out loud and kept forgetting Dan’s name. Dan had scowled but taken some comfort in the knowledge that the next generation was hardly posing a threat.

The previous generation, on the other hand, was going out of its way to fuck him over. Mike had been strutting around the office for so long that he was risking a sprained ankle. And, as if that wasn’t annoying enough, Dan couldn’t seem to get rid of him. Unlike the rest of Selina’s inner circle, who kept their business at the business end of the office, Mike made frequent visits to Dan’s corner. 

The first time he’d dropped by, Dan had made the mistake of asking if there was anything he could do.

“Let me think,” Mike savoured the dramatic pause. “How about, uh, my laundry?” 

“I hope you’re having fun,” Dan said. “Because six months from now, you’ll be begging for a seat at this desk and you'll find that I am not a forgiving man.”

“I’m serious. You wanna network with my tighty whities?”

Dan turned his attention back to his computer screen and typed EAT SHIT into an empty email. Mike gave a good-natured snort that made Dan want to strangle him.

“Ah, what the hell,” Mike shrugged, rifled through his stack of files and dumped one on Dan’s desk. “You’re so desperate for work? Here. Records of corporate Christmas gifts, donations, some of the more innocuous-looking bribes, et cetera. It’s confidential, but it’s not _confidential_ confidential. Just go through them, pull out the contact details of anyone who’s made a substantial donation and put them on the thank-you list. Cheapskates can go on the fuck-you list. Think you can do that without causing a major scandal?”

Dan stared at the slim file, then back at his computer.

“I’m gonna take that as a maybe,” Mike said.

“You know what,” Dan looked up at him. “I can make a start on the fuck-you list right now.”

Mike snorted. He strolled around the desk to the new guy’s seat. “Claude,” he said and jerked his head in Dan’s direction. “Your colleague here. Could you tell me his name, please?”

The kid gave a helpless glance back and forth between them. “I’m really sorry, Mike,” he said, after an excruciating pause.

“Fuck you, Claude,” Dan said. “Don’t come running to me next time you forget how to spell ‘consitutional’.”

“Play nice, kids,” Mike called over his shoulder, already halfway back to the civilised end of the office. Dan flipped off his departing back and added Claude to the list of people who would suffer once he was back in action.

*

To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: WalshGar  
Subject: Congratulations!

Big round of applause to Sue, who’s completed her third full year as Selina’s personal assistant. Join me to thank her for her outstanding contribution to Team Veep! 3:30 at my desk. Carrot cake will be provided, so bring your own paper napkins!

*

Dan had never understood people who were bored by their work. He’d launched his career straight out of grad school, fielding questions for the first congressman who’d take him, moving up the ranks until he reached D.C. and carrying right on without pausing for breath. When he wasn’t working, he was schmoozing. When he wasn’t schmoozing, he was fucking. When he was at the top of his game, he could engineer situations that allowed him to do all three at once. Right now he happened to be going through a dry patch, that was all.

The donor list sat untouched in Dan’s in-tray. Somehow it didn’t seem like an especially urgent task. Instead, he stared at his computer and flicked between his LinkedIn profile, the Veep’s official website, a live news feed and some stupid game about a horse that couldn’t run three feet without falling over. Gary had tagged the link onto the end of a chirpy memo three days ago, and Dan had found himself actually clicking it. He was getting pretty good. He’d figured out how to get the rhythm right so the horse could run for a few seconds, but he couldn’t seem to stop it from tripping over a rock and crashing to the ground. He’d mentally dubbed the horse Gary and closed the browser tab, but he’d found his way back to the page three times now.

God, it was boring. He didn’t know how Mike didn’t go crazy, sitting around all day. He clicked to the news feed. A clip from earlier in the day showed Selina addressing a crowd of journalists. The caption beneath the video read, ‘Meyer demands financial penalties for junk food manufacturers.’ More obesity, he guessed. He’d overheard the odd reference to what Mike was calling a ‘Twinkie tax’, although he assumed that wasn’t its official name. It didn’t look like it had been well thought-through. Probably best to distance himself from it, he rationalised. 

Even so, standing around listening to Selina drone on about fat toddlers and corporate responsibility would have been more interesting than the morning he’d spent alone in the office, waiting for them to come back.

Come back. The thought jolted him. Selina and Gary were definitely back – he remembered watching Gary tiptoes into Selina’s office with a celebratory herbal tea – but he hadn’t seen Mike or Amy all morning. He glanced across the room at Mike’s desk. It was unoccupied. He took a moment to steady his breath before glancing at Amy’s desk. No one there either. The path to Selina’s office was almost completely clear. Gary’s desk – he checked out of the corner of his eye – okay, so Gary was tapping away at his keyboard. But if he couldn’t get past Gary, he didn’t deserve to speak to the Vice President.

He shut down his browser, grabbed a coffee mug and strode up the long room in the direction of the Veep’s private office. It was as good a time as any to make his move.

Sue saw him coming and intercepted him with a withering glare. “Oh, no.”

Dan’s step almost faltered, but he regained his balance at the last moment. “Sue,” he put on his most charming smile. The smile he reserved for Senators’ wives.

Her expression didn’t falter. “The Vice President isn’t available at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

The Senators’ wives smile wasn’t doing it for her, so he tried the one he used on Senators’ daughters instead. “ _Sue_.”

“Come any closer and you’ll wish you were never born.” She turned her attention back to her computer and he missed his step entirely. He clenched and unclenched his fist, opened his mouth, changed his mind, closed it again, turned on his heel and strode back to his desk, where he composed an email consisting entirely of variations on the word ‘fuck’. He saved it to his drafts folder.

*

To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: WalshGar  
Subject: Last minute junk food binge – who’s with me?

Great work on Selina’s speech, guys. Loved the line about Hostess gambling with our children’s futures. Really knocked ‘em dead. I’m thinking of running out to the store and stocking up on candy beans while I can still afford them!

Speaking of Operation Obesity, there are still a few dishes left over from the meet-and-greet with the asparagus farmers union and plenty of leftover carrot cake. First come, first served!

Gary 

*

“Danny!” Mike hauled himself up onto the edge of Dan’s desk. It creaked dangerously. “Mind if I sit? Long walk down here.”

“Be my guest.” Dan scraped his chair back a few inches, enough that he’d have space to fold his arms and look Mike dead in the eye. It was pretty much his only option, since the bulk of Mike’s gut was blocking the view of everything else in the office. 

“You would love my job,” he told Mike. “Seriously. You know what I’ve done this morning? Literally nothing.” For a minute it had looked like he might get the horse all the way up the hill, but his finger had slipped at the last minute and it had flipped over backwards.

Mike waved dismissively. “Just thought I’d check in on everyone’s favourite pariah, see how you’re doing down here. Feeling good? Feeling lonely?” 

Dan wouldn’t call it lonely, exactly, but he was almost disappointed that Amy hadn’t come to his desk to gloat at him yet. It felt wrong. If she’d been unceremoniously shitcanned then he would have had the good manners to stop by and rub her face in it like a real friend. The way she’d been keeping her distance felt cold. Or worse, pitying. The thought was one he tried to avoid. It set his insides off-balance. 

“For real,” Dan said. “I left the office at four-thirty yesterday. Just walked right out the front door. Spent some quality time with my foot spa while you were explaining why Selina decided to blast one of our country’s most beloved declining businesses in its dying moments. Don’t tell me that doesn’t hurt.”

“Didn’t I give you a job to do?”

Dan hadn’t so much as glanced at the file in days. “I’m following up on some leads. Might take a while.” 

Mike nodded like that was good enough for him. It probably was. “Hey, you manage to teach Claude your name yet?” He waved at the new guy and leaned in close enough that Dan could make out the pattern of stale sweat that had dried into his shirt. He dropped his voice low enough that the guys three desks along could only hear if they strained to listen. “You’ll want to keep tabs on that one. His old man’s a senior liaison to some grizzly fucker on the Supreme Court.” 

He winked, and Dan didn’t know what felt worse: the transparency of Mike’s play or the fact that it hadn’t even occurred to him that the little bastard would have connections.

“Oh, and by the way,” Mike added, still way too close and whispering way too loud. “You go within two feet of Selina’s office again and I will personally shit you in the throat.”

He straightened up and levelled his gaze at the opposite desk, a hand landing heavily on Dan’s shoulder. “Nice press release, Claude. Didn’t end up releasing it, but very nice work. Fine penmanship. ” 

And then he was gone.

*

To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: WalshGar  
Subject: FYI Mike

I know you’re the one who keeps taking Selina’s hand lotion from my bag. Just return it and we’ll leave it at that, no questions asked. Consider it an amnesty. 

Don’t push me on this one.

*

It wasn’t even planned. Dan spotted Amy sitting alone in some godforsaken diner and planted himself at the unoccupied seat on her table. She was eating a salad with a side order of fries. Her face was buried in page seven of the Tribune. He glanced at the headline. _Scandal-prone Meyer backpedals on ‘Twinkie tax’ remarks._

Dan made the most sympathetic noise he knew how to make. “That was just bad timing,” he said, indicating the headline. “Great policy. Great title. Bad timing. Who could have known that they were about to go bust?”

Amy stared at him for a moment, then gathered up her purse and jacket in one arm. Grabbing her salad and fries with her free hand, she moved to another table with impressive dignity. Dan trotted after her and sat at the open chair, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he said, reaching out to steal a French fry while she rearranged herself. “May I _join_ you?”

“I’m eating my fucking lunch,” she said. “I get twenty minutes out of the day for this.”

“This’ll just be ten minutes. I promise.”

“Schedule a meeting. ”

“Help me get my job back.”

She crunched a forkful of grated carrot. “You got your job back.”

“No, I mean help me get Mike’s job back.” She didn’t look amused, so he hastily added, “think of it this way: if he wanted it so badly, wouldn’t he actually be _doing_ it instead of disappearing twice a day to jerk off in the men’s room?”

Amy took a moment to munch speculatively. Dan felt his hands clench together and his smile turn rigid. “Be honest with me. How much of his slack have you had to pick up since I got demoted?”

She shrugged. “I was picking up his slack before anyone even knew your name.”

“Fine,” Dan said. “Whatever. Listen. I don’t even need Mike’s job. I just need something to do. Anything. I spent all day yesterday trying to get the horse over the hill. Are you seriously saying you can't think of-

“Wait, what the fuck were you doing on the Hill?”

“What?”

“The Hill. You said you were trying to-”

“What? No. It’s a game on the internet. You try and get a horse to run over a hill without falling over. 

“But you aren't fucking around on the Hill.”

“Trust me, if I was then I wouldn't be talking to you right now,” Dan's entire face was aching but he kept his hands folded on the tabletop. “This is what I'm trying to say - Mike's got me making out a Christmas card list and playing the horse game. You seriously can't think of any better use for me?”

“I-”

“And please,” Dan said. “If your mind goes to a sexual place, I guarantee that I won’t be offended.”

“Mike needs someone to do his laundry,” she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

“Yeah, Mike already beat you to that one. It wasn’t funny then either.”

“I don’t think he was kidding. Mike wears the same shirt three times a week.”

“Yeah, well excuse me if I hold out for a better offer but I happen to have a close personal tie to the Supreme Court,” Dan said, suddenly exhausted. He stood up and started out of the diner, before returning to the table “And, hey, you know who would have known about the Twinkie thing? I would have known. They filed for bankruptcy in March, for fuck’s sake. Ever heard of Google fucking News?” 

He straightened and checked his watch. “What do you know? Seven minutes. I’ll let you finish your fries. Great meeting.” 

*

To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: WalshGar  
Subject: Girl without a pearl earring

Hi guys,

Selina’s lost one of the earrings she was wearing to breakfast this morning. Have any of you seen it lying around? The earrings were a gift from the Secretary of State, so we're looking at a PR disaster if the news gets out.

In the meantime, if anyone has a spare pearl earring she can wear to her meeting with Lennox later today, please let me know. If you could check with the wider staff, that would also be helpful.

Thanks,  
Gary

P.S. Faux-pearl will work too, Amy!

*

Dan was loitering in the corridor hoping someone would make eye contact with him when he caught sight of Selina, flanked by Amy, Mike and Gary. Amy had pulled up some data on her phone and seemed to be having trouble reading and navigating at the same time. Dan altered his course, but Mike spotted him and jogged ahead. They met at the elevator. Dan hit the call button.

“Move along,” Mike hissed, half out of breath and less intimidating than he probably would have liked.

“I’m going the same way. Getting a latte.” He waved at Selina over Mike’s shoulder, but Gary was pointedly drawing her attention to his bag of lotions. Behind her back, Amy was making vicious shooing gestures.

“She doesn’t want to be in an elevator with you,” Mike repeated, with more urgency. The Veep’s party could only dawdle so much. Dan shrugged. Mike glared at him. “Get out of here. You are in such deep shit. Right now you could be a sewage worker and you’d be in less-” He broke off as Selina arrived, her meet-the-press expression firmly in place. 

“Madame Vice President,” Dan said.

“Dan,” Selina didn’t turn to look at him. “Dan's just leaving,” Mike said, ushering the Veep's entourage into the elevator. Dan followed them in. The doors slid shut. Selina kept her eyes firmly on the doors in front of them. 

“You know, it’s never too early to start thinking of ways to resurrect Clean Jobs,” Dan said.

“Hm,” Selina said. Mike was muttering a stream of apologies in her ear.

“Can I just say,” Dan started. 

Selina cut both of them off with a sharp gesture. “No,” she said. “No you couldn’t.”

“Mike couldn’t even stop me from getting into this elevator with you,” Dan said. “What does that tell you?”

“It tells her you’re an asshole,” Amy didn’t look up from her BlackBerry.

“Exactly,” Dan said. “That is exactly what it tells her.”

Silence.

“Are those matching earrings,” Dan said.

Selina glanced at Amy, with what Dan secretly hoped was alarm. Amy frowned at Mike, who shrugged. After a few moments of unsubtle silent negotiation, Amy said, “shut the fuck up, Dan. The earrings are fine.”

Selina didn’t acknowledge him again the rest of the way down, but that was okay. Dan had learned to deal with awkward silences early in his life. He rode it out like a pro and, once the elevator touched down, parted ways with an undaunted wave. Selina didn’t respond.

*

To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: WalshGar  
Subject: Chilly!

Hey guys,

The thermostat is specifically set to the temperature that the Veep finds most comfortable. If you’re too warm, could you please speak to me before playing around with it? 

Are we all psyched for the field trip next week? I’m packing low-carb snacks!

*

The donors list, Dan was beginning to realise, was actually a useful resource. He didn’t have any plans to move into the private sector just yet, but these contact details would come in handy if he ever did. He tapped some of the more prestigious-looking CEOs’ numbers into his phone, just in case. Maybe he’d write out the actual cards himself. Mike wouldn’t mind – he’d probably be happy to offload anything that looked menial and boring onto Dan. Visions of personalised White House greetings cards danced in Dan’s head:

  


Dear Mr Gates,

Many thanks for your kind support this year.

Best wishes,  
Dan Egan and Selina Meyer

  


He could work on the wording when he actually started writing the cards. Putting Selina's name next to his like that made them look like a couple. Maybe he'd just slip his business cards into the envelopes instead. Either way, it felt like a promising start.

He flicked idly through the donations list. Google had been generous this year. Shame they were piping their generosity into what was, effectively, a black hole. He whistled low.

“Hey,” the new guy called across the desk. “Does it say how much Springsteen donated this year?”

Dan skimmed the list. Springsteen’s donation was listed, right next to a bombshell waiting to go off.

“So?” Claude said. “How much?” 

“That’s confidential,” Dan said, picking up the file and making for the doors to Selina’s office, ignoring Claude’s outraged squawk.

*

“I’m just saying,” Mike was saying as Dan edged through the door of Selina’s office. “One of the downsides of being a woman politician is you can’t make your subordinates take memos from you while you’re on the toilet. It’s a serious disadvantage. LBJ wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without the toilet memo power play.”

Selina had her head in her hands. “Why am I always LBJ in these scenarios? Why do I never get to be Kennedy?”

Dan was about to chip in but Gary was up and in his face before he even opened his mouth. “I’m sorry, you aren’t invited to this meeting.”

Selina looked up. “Amy, what the fuck is he doing in here? This is a closed door meeting.”

“This is a closed door meeting,” Gary had a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “As far as you’re concerned, _all_ of the Vice President’s meetings are closed door meetings.”

“Did you accept a donation from Shell oil?” Dan said, shaking Gary’s hand away. “Back when you were pushing Clean Jobs?”

“Of course we didn’t,” Selina laughed uncomfortably loudly. She glanced at Mike. “We didn’t, did we?”

“It’s on the donor list,” Dan said. “Literally the month you announced Clean Jobs, there's a big fuckoff donation from the the second most-fined Clean Air Act violator in the Pacific Northwest. And personally, I’ve gotta say kudos on that one. There’s no sense pissing Shell off just because you’re scared of looking like a hypocrite.”

“Technically that’s confidential,” Mike said. His throat was paling. And, as far as Dan was concerned, that made everything worthwhile.

“Did I say ‘looking like a hypocrite’?” Dan said. “I should have been clearer. What I meant was ‘looking like a hypocrite with no moral standing and incompetent to boot’.” What the hell. The first rule of knives is, once you’ve shoved one in, always give it a good twist.

“Well, if the boot fits,” Selina muttered. 

Amy was glaring at Mike, “did you give this weasel access to confidential records?”

“I said,” Selina said, a little louder. “‘If the boot fits.’”

“Good one, Ma’am,” Gary put in. She flashed him a smile.

Dan sensed they were losing focus and was about to say as much when Amy put a hand on the folder. “Thanks for bringing this to our attention, Dan. We’ll take it from here.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Dan said. “I've got Leon West on speed dial and I'm not afraid to walk through that door and pick up the phone. You need to loop me back in. You were about to step into a mountain of shit and I'm the only one who saw it coming. You fuckers owe me.” 

They stared at him. He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. 

“And I completed the horse game,” he lied. “It only took me two days.”

Selina looked from him to her staff and back again. “So based on this performance, you think I should reinstate you as head of rebuttals?”

“I just want my old job back,” Dan said. “My old job with my old responsibilities and maybe a new desk.”

“I don’t know how much credit we should give him,” Mike said. “He only even saw the sensitive information because I gave it to him.”

“Okay, that’s a terrible point,” Amy interrupted. “But regardless, Dan just tried to blackmail his way into a better job. That’s not exactly something we can reward.”

“And can I just say,” Gary said, “that first of all Clop is a _unicorn_ and that secondly there’s no way anyone completed that game in two days. It can’t be done. He can’t be trusted.”

“You want me to tell you how it ends?” Dan said. “Once you get over the second hill, you see a-”

“There’s _another_ hill?”

“I’m sorry, what are they-” Selina glanced at Amy.

“It’s a computer game, Ma’am, don’t worry about it.”

“Anyway,” Selina straightened. “In this office, we don’t respond to acts of terrorism, which is essentially what all of this is. And, listen, it’s not even a compelling threat. No one’s going to get their nose bent out of joint over a legitimate donation we accepted months ago. That’s ridiculous.”

“Fair enough,” Dan said. “But once I’ve got Leon talking, maybe I’ll think of a few other things I might want to share. You know what they say about whistles: once you blow, you just can’t-” he trailed off. “Slow,” he finished, unconvincingly.

Selina looked at Amy.

“He doesn’t know that much,” Amy said.

“You wanna try me?” Dan folded his arms. “I’ve got so much dirt on this office, Leon’s going to have to send me his dry cleaner’s bill by the time I’m done.”

“It’s true,” Mike said, his voice low and alarmed. “I’ve been incredibly lax with security.”

“So we’re fucked, is what you’re saying?” Selina pursed her lips and moved to her desk chair, sitting down heavily. “We couldn’t fire you when you fucked up over the McCauley amendment. We can’t fire you now. We can’t even fucking keep you at a desk because you still manage to do untold damage when we haven’t given you anything to do. What the fuck are we supposed to do? Sit here and wait for someone to take a hit out on you?”

Mike started. “Can I just say that Dan’s still a member of our staff, so it’s not like I was breaking any-”

“Shut the fuck up, Mike.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Dan was doing his best to look contrite. Contrition usually came off as insincere on him, but so did most expressions. It was an unavoidable side-effect of his normal insincerity. Selina glanced at him. “You. Shitheel.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“How would you get us out of this Twinkie tax bullshit?”

Dan thought for a moment. “You support the troops. You’re sorry for your insensitively timed remarks but you stand behind your principles. Your heart goes out to the fine Americans who’ve lost their jobs, but we know they’re all red-blooded, Eagle-hearted patriots who’ll bounce back and find jobs somewhere else. Preferably somewhere that isn’t responsible for a generation of twelve year olds with type two diabetes. We propose some sort of amendment to something as a gesture of support, who gives a shit. Boom. You’re a hero, everyone wins.”

Selina glanced at Mike. “How does that sound?”

Mike made a noncommital gesture with his shoulders that couldn't even be described as a shrug. 

“That’s what I thought,” Selina said. “So what should we do with this shit muncher? You think we can trust him to pick up some of your extra work?”

To Mike’s credit, he was taking the news in his stride. Probably relieved that he’d have someone to offload onto again. “He stays in the corner desk,” Mike said. “I’ll throw a few things his way, see how things work out.”

“If I’m in that desk, I want Claude reassigned,” Dan said.

“Done.”

“And I want to pick where he goes.”

Mike shrugged.

“And I’m back in the daily meetings?”

“Sure, why not. Bring a notepad.”

“And I get a pay rise, since you’ve all seen the damage you’re capable of doing without me here to hold your hands.”

“Don’t push me,” Mike took a pointed sip of coffee, as though that closed matters.

They looked to Selina, who was swinging slightly in her chair.

“Well,” she said. “Sounds like we’ve reached a mutually unsatisfactory conclusion. Mike, you’re still Dan’s boss. Dan, you’re out of purgatory, congratulations. Amy, Gary, I couldn’t have done it without you.” She kicked off her shoes. “I don’t want to see any of you again for at least two hours. You’re all dismissed.”

*

To: DL_VPSENSTAFF  
From: WalshGar  
Subject: a delicate subject

Hi guys,

Could I please ask everyone to make use of the air freshener after visiting the men’s room? You’re not in your Mom’s guest bathroom now, guys!

And, on that note, a warm welcome back to Dan Egan. After his period in exile, his security clearance has been bumped back up, so he should be back on the senior staff distribution list. Glad to have you back, Dan! Obviously you’ve missed a lot of recent news, but just schedule a meeting or a lunch and I’ll catch you right up.

And, last but not least, I’ve attached a link to my online petition to get the canteen to start serving hot chocolate again. Tell your friends.

Catch you on the flipside,  
Gary Walsh

*

They trailed out of the office. Gary cast an accusing glance in Sue’s direction and made a beeline for the kitchenette and emerged with a small sundae, which he took back in to Selina. Mike stalked back to his desk. Dan avoided Sue’s murderous gaze and sidled up to Amy.

“So, I notice you didn’t put up much of a fight in there. Looking forward to working with me again?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she said. “If it were up to me, you’d be clearing out your shitty corner desk as we speak.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that. You’ve missed me – admit it.”

She touched his arm. “You’re delusional. And no one here likes you. Never forget that.” She peeled off and away to her desk, her steps a little lighter.

Dan smiled after her before returning to his desk and pulled his phone out from the drawer. He dialled the first number on his contacts list and listened to the familiar intonation of Senator Hallowes’s voicemail message. 

“Hi, this is Dan Egan. Just a quick call to let you know that we’ll be sending one of our guys over to help out on your campaign. Consider it a goodwill gesture. ” He looked up, caught Claude’s eye and winked. Claude smiled uncertainly and turned his attention back to the text message he was composing. “You’ll love him, I promise. Say hi to Carol for me.”

He hung up, sat down and checked his computer. Little by little, emails were starting to make their way back to his inbox. Dan copied his list of corporate contacts to a new folder and got back to work. He may not have been popular, but he was anything but delusional.


End file.
